


Decode

by glad



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alpha Rick, Alpha Shane, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Zombies, Beta Carol, Beta Glenn, Beta Maggie, Beta Michonne, Beta Tara, But not too much of an asshole, F/M, M/M, Mentions of Cancer, Mpreg, Negan Being Negan, Omega Lori, Omega Negan, Omega Sasha, Slow Burn, way later though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-01 11:25:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8622790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glad/pseuds/glad
Summary: After going through a divorce, Rick Grimes is sure his life is on a downward spiral- his relationship with his son is strained, he's too engrossed with work, and his attempts in getting back into the dating scene have so far ended in disaster. 
However, things change when the Alpha confronts Carl's lewd new gym teacher, Mr. Negan after an inappropriate insult is thrown. Whether Rick wants to admit or not, their lives have intertwined forever- and he soon finds himself trying to decode who this mysterious man is.





	1. First Day

“So, what did you think about your first day on the field?” Rick takes a bite of his burger and stares over at his partner. 

“Pretty fun- you know, besides the part where we got beat by an old lady. That could have gone better.”

He swallows and laughs, ignoring the grease getting on his hands. “Yeah, yeah, but that’s the thrill of the job.”

Rick Grimes had been a sheriff's deputy for about fifteen years and only now was he on to his second partner, Tara Chambler. She was a young Beta- fresh out of the police academy. Rick had seen her type before. Hell, she reminded him a lot of himself when he first graduated with Shane. A go-getter who thought they could be badasses like in the movies.

Turns out, the job is a lot duller than people expect it to be. Sure, you get your shootout here and there, but they’re rare. Most of the time, you’re being called out for traffic violations, drunks or something trivial- like a cat getting stuck up a tree. That was the way it was when you’re working in a quiet county. The most exciting thing to happen to him all week was getting beat by that old lady over a ticket. 

But, Rick wouldn’t trade this career for the world. This was his calling- helping people. The Grimes family had a long history in law enforcement: his father worked on SWAT, his uncle was on K-9, but Rick was probably the only one who really loved the job. His old man and uncle may have had their days, but they were mostly doing it for the money. He dreamt of being a cop since he could talk. He had even been the one to convince Shane to join the force. He kept his dad’s old police hat, badge, and gun in a special cabinet in his room- and when he got old, he would give to Carl. Mr. Grimes had been a good man and Rick aspired to have just a bit of the compassion he had. Some of the stuff he saw on bad days would make anyone lose faith in humanity, but not Rick. No, Rick believed that if you showed a little love, the good could even the bad out. He stayed and comforted the victims, families, and community members because it wasn't just his duty, but the right thing to do. 

Tara took a sip of her Coke and smirked. “You always treat your newbies to McDonald's, Deputy Grimes?” She said, leaning back in her seat.

“Not unless they do a good job,” he replied with a grin, “which you did. If you keep this up, you’ll be moving up in the ranks in no time, Officer Chambler.”

“You’re married?” Rick nearly chokes on his fries when he sees her eyeing his wedding ring. He fiddles with it awkwardly. 

“No, not anymore,” he sighs. “I was, though. It just fell apart.”

“Oh, sorry,” she cringed. “Jesus, I didn’t know-” she facepalmed and mumbles to herself. “Stupid, Tara, running your mouth again. Denise always warned you about that,” 

“That your partner?” he asks.

Tara nods and digs through her pocket. “Oh-Oh, yeah!” she pulls out her wallet and opens it up, pointing to a picture of herself and a heavier woman with her hair up. “We’ve been together for a couple years now. I’m crazy about her- been actually thinking about proposing.”

“Go for it.”

“You think so?” Her brows raise. 

“Sometimes you got to take chances,” he replies, unconsciously staring down at his ring, “even if they fail.”

It wasn’t that Lori cheating on him with Shane was what broke the marriage. No, their marriage had been on the rocks for a while, but it was a sign for the both of them it wasn't going to work. Rick wanted to say it was his fault as much as he hated to admit it. He was just so preoccupied with work and Lori felt unloved. He could have done more (even though Michonne and Glenn tried to convince him otherwise) and now she was gone. She and Shane would be married for a year- they even had a baby together, Judith, who would be two this July. 

Rick couldn’t stay mad at them for long. Shane was his best friend- his brother, and if Lori loved him more what could he do? If this was what made her happy then so be it. They had their teenaged son, Carl, and all three of them were making it work. Lori and Shane had Carl on the weekdays, and he had him on the weekends when he was off from work. The least Rick could do was be congenial to the happy couple. But, he still kept his ring on. He just couldn’t let go of what could have been. 

His phone rang and his eyes narrowed. Speak of the devil, it was Lori. What did she want? Rick picked up and sighed, knowing Tara was eavesdropping intently. “Hello,” he began, “Lori, I just got out of work-”

“Oh my God, Rick!” She yells and he nearly drops his phone. Great, she’s pissed and that was never a good thing. “Oh my God, Rick!”

“What happened?” He asked, moving his phone about an inch from his ear. 

“What happened?!” His ex-wife hits what has to be her steering wheel with a thump and lets out an inhuman sound. Rick can hear Judith giggling in the back and Carl trying to defuse the situation.

“Mom,” the boy says, “Mom, it’s not that big of a deal.” He swore he could hear Ron Anderson chiming in from the back. 

“Carl, it’s a very big deal. Now, let me talk to your father,” she huffs. “Rick, I just picked up the boys from school and you will not believe what I was told! Just, the language that-”

Rick sighed and rubbed his temples. Ron and Carl had been friends since Freshman year and he had never been too thrilled about their little group. Ron had been through a lot in the past year with an abusive father (The Anderson Household was a frequent stop until two months ago), but he had a bad habit of running his mouth and saying stupid shit he regretted later. And their little girlfriend, Enid, was a loner who also had a habit of running her mouth and saying stupid shit. Carl had to get them out of trouble more than once. “What did they do?” 

“It’s not what they did!” Lori cries and he can hear Ron and Carl angrily defend themselves. “It’s their gym teacher, Mr. Negan!”

Oh, God, not Mr. Negan again. He was their new gym teacher, having recently moved from Virginia, and he was a nightmare. Everyday Carl complained about how he embarrassed a student or made lewd comments: usually always about someone’s mother. He was lucky to never have been targeted himself, but some of the stuff he said was just awful. Rick was sure parents called in to complain about him every other day- the guy would probably be fired by the end of the year- maybe even before. 

Now, Tara is intrigued and a hand goes to her chin. Great, she’d know everything about his life at this rate if Lori didn’t quiet down. “Did he say anything to Carl or something?”

“Uh, yes!” She fumed. “You know how Carl sprained his ankle the other day after baseball?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, I wrote him a note that let him sit out if the pain got too much, and Mr. Negan called him a pussy!”

Rick’s brows raise. “He called Carl a pussy?” 

“Yes!”

Tara gasps and puts a hand over her mouth. She’s engrossed in this drama now. “Lori, how old is this guy?”

“I’m going to guess older,” she pauses. “Rick Grimes, it doesn’t matter how old this man is. He just called our son a pussy!”

“And Ron,” he hears Carl mumble, the other boy interjecting. “He called Ron a pussy, too.”

“No, I’m pretty sure he called me a cocksucker.”

_“Rick!”_

“Well, I mean these older guys have no filter-”

**_“Rick!”_ **

He curses under his breath and rubs his temples. “Lori, what do you want me to do?”

“I want you to get your ass in there and talk to this guy. You’re more reasonable than I am right now- you’ll have to get me in handcuffs if I turn around.”

This was true. Lori was like a hurricane when she got pissed: powerful and uncontrollable. 

“What about Shane?” He asked. “Maybe you can get him to come in.”

“Rick, you honestly think that would go down well?”

No, but it was worth a shot. 

“Alright,” he says, “I’m on my way right now.” He smiled, “see you Friday, Carl. I got some fun stuff planned for us.”

“Yeah, see you, dad.” Rick winces at how dull Carl sounds. The whole divorce had been rough on him, but it seemed anymore his boy was pushing him further away.

“Thanks, Rick. I owe you one.”

Rick hung up the phone, leaned back in his chair, and took off his hat- running a hand through his short, brown hair. He glanced over at Tara who was grinning like an idiot, her hands together in pure glee. Great, the station was a good forty-five minutes from Carl’s school if they went back. “I guess you’re coming with me,” he groaned and rolled his eyes when she let a “yay.”

“Your ass is going to wait outside. This is awkward enough, don’t need you breathing over my shoulder.” 

“Aw…”


	2. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick tries to confront Mr. Negan, hoping to see his side of the story, but he doesn't get the outcome he hoped.

Rick knew the campus of Harriet Tubman High School all too well. He was used to being called here once in awhile for drug violations, accidents, or sex-crazed couples thinking that no one will see them fucking behind a statue after the hours. Guess what? They do and Rick, unfortunately, has to see them usually ass naked in all their glory. He had never been too keen on the school- he preferred his alma mater Stone Mountain, but Carl had gotten a scholarship for baseball and who was he to refuse basically a free ride? As long as his wallet wasn’t hurting all was right. 

He stepped out of his police car and fixed his hat, Tara followed. On the edge, where it curved, he could feel ridges from its wear and abuse. Carl always loved to chew on it when he was a baby. Hell, he still loved his hat. Rick would have to order one for his birthday coming up- but Shane probably was going to one-up him and buy two. 

Together the two cops walked up the pathway leading up to the large stone steps of the entrance. As much as he loved Stone Mountain, the campus was beautiful. A bronze statue of their namesake stood proudly to the right; three benches circled around it and a small garden lay behind it. Several fields were all over the place, spanning several hundred square feet. At one corner there was the girl’s soccer team, to the other the baseball team, and in the very back Rick could hear the curses of the football coach. It made him nostalgic. 

Back in high school, Rick was the most popular, respected kid in his class. He was on the Student Council, tutored on the side, and was the star player on the baseball team. Shane was the opposite- known for being a loudmouth, playboy, slacker, it was Rick who kept him in line. Together, the two were inseparable and always up to something… Well, Shane was. Rick usually had to be the straight man to his escapades. 

Like, that one time Shane got Pamela Greene, Nancy Jonas, and Kelly Grace to not only go to prom with him but also have a threesome that very night! Seventeen-year-old Rick’s mind was blown. Hell, twenty-five years later and he was still impressed. It was pretty ironic that they voted Shane for most eligible bachelor and him the family man with the perfect marriage for the yearbook, huh?

Yeah, two years later and even thinking about it was like rubbing salt on an open wound. Owch.

He reached to open the heavy doors that led to the lobby, but Tara stopped her. She smirked and shook her head. “You’re not going to get in that way. You’re going to need to ring the buzzer.” She turned to the button beside what seemed to be a key card lock. “You’re off your game, Deputy Grimes.”

“Well, when I’m working they usually leave the door open. And we didn’t have this key card nonsense back when I was a teenager- too confusing.” Carl lost his card every other week.

“And how many years ago was that?”

He rolled his eyes. “Twenty-five.”

“Wow, you look good for your age, you old fart,” Tara replied, ignoring his muttering that ‘forty-three is not that old.’ 

“How old are you, then?” Rick asked. 

“Twenty-four,” she said, pressing on the buzzer. “I graduated a couple years back from this place, so I know it pretty well.” The young officer leaned back against the railing. “Also know the people, too.”

The intercom emitted static for about ten seconds before they heard a woman. “Hello?” She practically yelled. Rick assumed they were elderly and smoked fifty packs a day judging by how gruff she sounded. 

Tara grinned. “Ms. Heisenberg!” She said nonchalantly. “Hey, you! Never thought I’d see you again! Say, can you let us in?”

Ms. Heisenberg groans. “Oh,” she begins, “not you, Ms. Chambler. What do you want?”

“It’s Officer Chambler now, and my partner and I need to meet with one of your teachers.”

There’s a pause before they hear a click. “It’s open, come in.”

The lobby of the school is just as impressive as the exterior. The walls are made up of a dark, ocean blue tile; the floor is hardwood with a carpet of the school’s logo in the middle, and a television plays school announcements. Rick can’t help but stare at the pictures of numerous accomplishments over the years: football championships, school functions, and a mini hall of fame. 

On Stone Mountain’s hall of fame, Shane was up there for scoring the touchdown that won them the finals in 1991. That was a fun year… probably the greatest in his life. 

“Rick,” Tara pulls him out of his thoughts, pointing to a room with see-through walls. “We’re going to have to sign in. Come on.”

He had never visited the school as a guest before. When he was there for work purposes, all he had to do was walk in. When there was a crime, he could roam the halls freely- but, he usually was there to pick people up. He lets Tara lead the way because she’s way too excited about showing off her alma mater and he’s not in the mood to argue. 

Sitting in the sole desk at the Secretary’s Office was the oldest woman Rick had ever seen. Her oval shaped face was nearly covered in wrinkles and liver spots, her fingers were bone like, and her short, thin white hair was tightly put up in a bun. She turned her chair and looked up from slowly typing on her desktop.

“Let me guess,” she began, and Rick recognized her from the voice on the intercom. “You’re here to talk to Mr. Negan.”

Rick’s brows raised. “You get a lot of complaints about him?”

Ms. Heisenberg nodded, her lips pursed. “About three a week,” she replied. “I’m assuming he finally said something to warrant a police report, huh?”

“No, I’m Carl’s father, Rick,” the deputy said. “You see me every once in awhile.”

“Oh, he said something about your boy, huh?”

“Well, yes, and I want to talk to him about it. I just want to see his side of the story and get an understanding.”

She huffed and gave an eye roll. “Your son is probably right,” she said. “We’ve had more problems with him than any other faculty member. The principal doesn’t want to fire him because he’s getting our football team to the championships, but if I could I would. What an ass.”

Tara and Rick glance at each other as the old woman continued to go on her tirade. The more he heard, the less confident he felt that this talk was going to go well. And that he was beginning to dislike this Mr. Negan quite a bit- no, a lot. 

“I’ve heard rumors he’s been sleeping around with some of the younger teachers. He’s the most stereotypical Alpha I’ve ever encountered and I was around before the whole Omega Rights protests, so that’s saying something. He’s a bully. End of story. It’s a shame, really, because his wife, Lucille is an absolute doll. She deserves better-” 

Tara puts a hand up and laughs, feeling just as drained from that long-winded rant as Rick. “Okay, Ms. Heisenberg,” she says, “all Rick wants to do is find him. You’re not Joan Rivers here, so let’s cut the petty gossip.”

The old woman scowls and crosses her arms. Clearly, she doesn’t like to be interrupted. “He’s at the field out back coaching football,” she stated coldly. “You can hear him cursing a mile away.”

“See, thank you, Ms. Heisenberg!” Tara grins and grabs Rick’s sleeve. “We’re going to leave you to your work! Say goodbye, Rick.”

“Bye?”

They barely got out of the room before they heard her cry. “I’m warning you. He’s a nightmare!” Jesus, it sounded foreboding. 

The two walked down the halls side by side- they’d have to get through the cafeteria to get to the field. Damn, Rick wished he had a cafeteria this large and nice when he was a kid. They had one of those vending machines where you choose your own drink by pressing the button. Carl always rolled his eyes when they were out because Rick found them fascinating. They also had a pretzel stand, microwaves, and a dessert table. Goddamn, these kids were eating better than him. 

Tara picked up a cookie from the counter and munched happily as they made their way out of the room. “Football field is out this door here,” she said, pointing to the exit. “The boy’s gym and showers are the next room over.”

“Alright, stay out here,” he said. “I’ll be right out.”

She huffed and crossed her arms. “Okay.”

* * *

Rick barely made it out the door before he can hear the football team’s shouts and jeers. They’re roughing each other up out there- wrestling, tackling, and shoving. Shane loved football because of that, but Rick just didn’t see the point of playing a sport where you got hurt like that. Nothing’s fun about brain damage.

Their field is nice- really, really nice. It’s clear where most of the school’s finances go; there are large stadium lights at every corner, there are so many benches Rick thinks that he’s in a stadium for a moment. The grass is perfectly painted and extremely professional. It's beautiful.

“What the hell was that shit?” That had to be his guy, Mr. Negan. Damn, Carl wasn’t lying when he said he had a foul mouth. “Come on, my mother-in-law can run faster than that and she’s fucking eighty. What the fuck is your excuse?”

“Sorry, Coach Negan.”

“Yeah, well sorry isn’t going to win us the fucking championships.”

Jesus Christ, could this guy go one sentence without dropping an f-bomb? Rick wasn’t a prude, or at least he didn’t consider himself one, but even this was too much for him. He makes his way down to the field. Some of the players stop and panic, even though they probably haven’t done anything wrong- it was a teenager thing. Others keep on playing. And Mr. Negan? He doesn’t even notice he’s there until the deputy calls for him. 

Rick had expected an old, overweight man trying to live out his dreams through children.

But, when Mr. Negan turned around he found himself staring at a handsome sonofabitch who was also trying to live out his dreams through children. He was about his age- maybe a couple years older- with somewhat slicked back black hair, dark hazel eyes, and a clean-shaven face. It probably didn’t take much to convince women to sleep with him: he was Alpha as hell, muscular, and very easy on the eyes. 

It didn’t help that he was wearing very short shorts and a tight t-shirt. Rick was getting flashbacks of his old gym teacher who didn’t look as nice as Mr. Negan. These kids were lucky, though… extremely lucky. The coach smirks and leans back, licking his lips before blowing his whistle. He raised his hand and motioned the kids forward. 

“Alright,” he began, “which one of you fuckers was it?” He pointed at one of the bigger boys. “Was it you, Charlie? I know you got caught smoking shit last year!”

“No, sir!”

Mr. Negan twirled his whistle, his smile never fading. “Maybe one of you were having an orgy with the cheerleaders in the bathroom. Now, I get it, I did it too when I was your age, but you can’t get caught-”

“I’m here to talk to you,” Rick interrupts. “I’m Officer Grimes-”

The man’s brows raise. “Oh, so you’re Carl’s dad?” He asked, licking his lips again. “He’s a good kid. You should see him up to plate, man that kid is great at bat-”

“You called him a pussy today.”

“It was a joke. Thought he had more balls than that- y’know, could actually take a fucking joke.”

Now, Rick’s pissed. He exhales and puts a hand on his shoulder, his eyes narrowing. “I think we need to take this somewhere private. Now.”

The boys begin to murmur amongst themselves as Mr. Negan’s smile turns into a firm straight line. He growls and blows his whistle. “What are you fuckers doing?” He shouts, making them jump. “Get the fuck back to practice. I’ll be back in a couple minutes.” 

They go over by an old oak tree and Rick takes no time letting loose. “What are you doing?” He begins, pointing at the kids. “I don’t know how you talk to your buddies, but these are kids! You can’t talk to them like this.”

“I’m not going to fucking baby them,” Mr. Negan snaps back. “All of these other hacks here do, but not me. I treat them as my fucking equals.”

“They’re not your equals,” the deputy hisses, “they’re kids. They’re highly impressionable and need someone to guide them. How are they supposed to feel when the person who’s supposed to be protecting them calls them a pussy?”

“Well, the real world isn’t going to protect them-”

Rick stamps his foot. “No, it’s not!” They’re practically nose to nose now. “But, this place is supposed to be safe for them and you’re advocating bullying, Mr. Negan-”

“Just call me, Negan.”

“Okay, Negan,” he continues, “because by calling these kids pussies, you’re basically telling them that it’s perfectly fine to harass.” 

“Jesus, you sound like my wife-”

“Maybe you should listen to her then because it sounds like she’s got her shit together, unlike you!”

Negan shrugs. “They need to toughen up… that’s how I did.” Then, his eyes narrow and he scowls. “I don’t appreciate you coming in here fucking telling me how to teach- pretending to be a martyr and shit. It doesn’t concern you.”

“Doesn’t concern me?” Rick gasps, blown away. “You’re telling a police officer that bullying and the safety of children don't concern me?” Oh God, if Shane had gone this guy would be dead without a doubt. “You have Ron Anderson, right?”

“Yeah, so?”

“He’s an abuse survivor,” he hissed, watching Negan’s eyes widen like saucers. “I’ve been called to that house so many goddamn times because his father beat his mother, his brother, and him nearly half to death. That language you fucking used? He’s heard that shit everyday at home.” Negan’s not even staring at him anymore, instead, he’s staring at a leaf on the ground. “You know that shit triggers him? He’s supposed to be safe here, but here you are trying to be the big shit humiliating a boy!”

Negan doesn’t say anything.

Rick shook his head. “God, I imagine your self-esteem must be great if you’re getting your power-trip from making fun of children.”

“I’m helping them-”

“Save it!” He frowns. “We’re done here. Don’t ever call my boy anything like that again. Or you might not be dealing with me next time.” And with that he turns to walk away, storming down the field, the pathway, and back into the building. He ignores the players and Negan’s angry expression because he’s about to lose it. Hell, he’s ready to ignore Tara when she stops him at the door. 

“How’d it go?” She asked before seeing his face. “Jesus, not great, huh?”

“Let’s go,” he snaps. 

Her eyes widen. “Okay,” she mumbles, “alright.”

He'd have to ask some of his buddies for advice. They usually knew what to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready, Rick is going to be salty as hell and bitch to Michonne next chapter. I bet his group of friends (excluding Glenn and Michonne because they're usually on point) will have 'great' advice to give... like Abraham.


	3. Friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick has a mini-intervention and gets horrible advice.

“I just don’t understand. How can the school let a teacher insult their students like this?”

“Rick, everyone knows high schools only care about football. They’re going to do everything possible to win the championships”

“Not me, apparently.” 

Would it be considered pathetic that the local pizza delivery guy and his wife were one of his best friends? As he watched Glenn and Maggie Rhee raid his cabinets, Rick began to believe he was worse off than he previously had thought. The young couple plopped down across from him in his kitchen table with cups and soda. A box of pizza laid open in front of them, still steaming. It paid being friends with the guy who worked at Pizza Hut- you got the best food for free. 

The Beta pours Coke for himself and his wife before happily chowing down. Rick watched, still playing with his slice. 

Maggie and Glenn were a bit of an odd couple. She worked as a secretary for the mayor and he was, well, a delivery boy. But, they made it work beautifully. They reminded Rick of a little old couple- always laughing, teasing, and just being absolutely in love with each other- and they were only in their twenties. They were ‘relationship goals’ as Carl would say. 

If only he and Lori were like that. 

Then, there were Michonne, Sasha, Rosita, Carol, Daryl, and Abraham. Michonne, who was in a relationship with Sasha, was his rock- his best friend. She had been the one to stay until the wee hours of the morning with him during the divorce; she had reminded him when to shower, shave, and wash his clothes. Carol sent him cookies, Rosita, Sasha, and Abraham made him laugh, and Daryl was his shoulder to cry on when he felt lower than he ever felt in his life. Before, they were his neighbors, but now they were his family. 

And so, every week they came over to his place, ate pizza and just talked. Sometimes, it was boring, dull conversations about their lives. Other times, it was all over the place and Rick would feel legitimately happy and laugh for a while. 

It was the latter right now, and God did Rick need this. 

He had told them all what happened and his reactions were exactly what he expected. Abraham, Rosita, and Sasha were telling him to kick his ass; Michonne, Glenn, and Maggie were trying to be the mediators, all the while Daryl was too focused on his pizza but chimed in once in awhile about showing him ‘a one for.. Carol lied through the grit of her teeth and told him to discuss it with the school- he knew she was ready to go in there herself and hoist Negan by those goddamn short-shorts. Those tight short-shorts that made him so uncomfortable. 

Abraham slams his fist on the table, Daryl’s drink nearly spilling everywhere. “I tell you,” he cried, getting fired up. “If that bastard called my son a fucking pussy, I’d beat his balls in so hard he’d have to drop em’ again!” Rick fights a snicker when Michonne mouths not to do that. 

“That’s illegal, Abraham,” Rosia calmly replied. “The smart thing to do is get evidence of his numerous affairs, show it to his wife, and watch his life completely fall apart until he’s the shell of the man he was. With his wife gone, he’ll have to pay child support, lose his home, and everyone will know he’s a piece of shit- damaging his already fragile ego.” She smiled and took a bite of her pizza as Abraham’s brows raised comically. “But, that’s just what I would do.”

“Jesus, shit, remind me not to piss you off,” the ginger Alpha muttered.

Michonne puts a hand on his arm and bites her lip. “Rick,” she said, “don’t listen to them. He called Carl a pussy and you discussed it with him. Now, you got to walk away and see what he’ll do next-”

“But what about those kids like Ron?” He asked. “Jesus, I know what he’s been through and he’s gotta be upset by it-”

She tuts, shaking her head. “Rick, you can’t fight Ron’s battle. I’m sure Jessie knows and she’ll address the school if she feels the need to step in.”

“Yeah, but-”

“She’s right, you know,” Carol interrupted. “Jessie’s a tough woman, Rick, and that whole family is getting the help they need. Don’t rush in and act for them. You’ll just make things worse.”

“I know, but-”

“You care too much.” It’s cold and with an edge, but the older woman’s statement makes everyone nod and talk amongst themselves in agreement. Carol’s good with being completely honest with you even though the truth hurts. 

Daryl looks up. “You’re going gray,” he stated. “You weren’t going gray before.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t understand why you’re changing the subject,” he huffed. “There isn’t anything wrong with my hair.”

“I think what Daryl’s implying is that you’re stressing yourself out,” Maggie replied. 

“I’m not stressed-”

Sasha pointed at him. “You got bags under your eyes.” 

“That doesn’t mean anything-”

“Oh, you chew your nails when you're stressed,” Glenn began before pausing. “Not trying to be creepy or anything, I just remember that from my high school psychology class, and your nails are pretty tuned up.” He turned beet red and cringed. “Sorry, that sounded creepy… I’m just going to stop.”

“Pizza Boy here has a point, even if it is creepy that he’s looking at your nails,” Abraham interjected. “Rick, we’re your friends. You can tell us what’s wrong. Don’t bottle that shit in- that’s how shitstorms are formed, and later you have a shitfest.”

Michonne blinks at him. “Thank you for the colorful description… I couldn’t put it any other way.” 

“I’m fine-”

She placed her hands on his. “You’re not, though.” Her dark brown eyes intensely stared back at his baby blues as he looked away. “Rick, look at me and be honest. You’re not okay.”

Rick sighed. “I just… work and this community are the only things I have left.” He leaned forward on the table and held his chin. “My wife fucking cheated on for my best friend and my son hates me all because I couldn’t be there for them. But I can be there for this county so-"

They all groan. 

“Lori cheating on you wasn’t your fault,” Sasha said with an exasperated expression. “She could’ve had a talk with you, but instead she went off with Shane. It’s both of their faults and you shouldn’t beat yourself up because of it.” She waved her hand as if she was swatting a fly away. “Good riddance, I say."

Abraham nodded. “Carl doesn’t hate you. Poor kid’s probably just still shocked about everything. It probably fucks a kid up to find out your mom is getting jiggy with your ‘uncle.’ He’s still processing everything, just give him time. He’ll come around.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Michonne said before her eyes narrowed. “And you’re taking off tomorrow.”

“I can’t do that!” He cried.

She glared at him like a mother ready to scold a child. “Yes, you are, Rick. You have how many vacation days collected? Nearly a year's worth, right? You can afford a day to just unwind and reenergize.” 

He shook his head. “I just don’t know...”

“Dude, you worked hard enough keeping us safe.” Daryl finished his slice and rubbed his beard. “Take a break.”

“Treat yourself!” Glenn cried.

“Alright, fine!” He rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed. “I’ll take the day off, are you all happy?”  
“Yes.”

Abraham leaned forward and glanced to his left and right before leaning in. “Rick,” he whispered, “if this Negan clown calls your son a pussy again, then I say you follow my advice and beat his balls in-”

_“No.” ___

__“But, I think it would get the message across that-”_ _

___**“No.”** _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter is really more filler, but I wanted to have most of Team Family in this. Next chapter will be Carl based and focusing on his adventures in high school and if Rick's talk really resonated with Negan... or if it didn't.
> 
> Don't listen to Abraham, Rick... Just don't.


	4. Gym Class

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carl and Ron dread gym class until they realize something might be different with Mr. Negan.

Carl Grimes’ daily schedule went like this: get up, get dressed, eat, hop on the bus, suffer for seven hours, go home, suffer for seven more hours doing homework, then go to bed. It honestly sucked being a Freshman. You had no idea what the fuck you were doing and where you were going half the time, nor did you have the respect of the upperclassmen. 

It was nice being an eighth grader- at least then, Carl felt like he was somewhat cool. 

It was only October and Carl was already feeling the need to fling himself out the window. Between his mom constantly bitching about him needing to ‘get a grip’, to Shane kissing his ass and his dad being a workaholic mess, these two years by far were the worst of his life. But, Mr. Negan just had to come in and make his school year hell as well. 

Mr. Negan was new apparently. Their old gym teacher and coach had died of a heart attack or something over summer break. Carl didn’t know much about him, but according to the sophomores, the guy was, like, a hundred years old. He hoped that dude didn’t wear short-shorts like Mr. Negan did because that must have been hell. It wasn’t just his short-shorts that pissed Carl off. Mr. Negan was just an asshole. Like one of the bullies he dealt with who never grew out of it in adulthood. 

He cursed, which Carl didn’t have a problem with because Shane had a potty mouth, but at other students. Sometimes, it was over trivial stuff- like missing the ball or tripping, but other times it was just because he wanted to make the popular kids laugh. Carl found it more sad than anything that a grown man felt the need to make an ass of himself to gain the love of a bunch of buffoons like the popular kids. They secretly hated his guts anyway. Or, at least that’s what he heard from Sophia, who was friends with some of them. 

Mr. Negan’s favorite target was Ron Anderson. Carl had known Ron for a few months before the school year started- he used to come over when his dad was having a bad day, which was a codeword for being really drunk. And those bad days became almost every day before Pete committed suicide by cop. Good riddance to that coward, but it hit Ron pretty hard. Ron was a great guy, his best friend. He was a scrawny kid who couldn’t play sports to save his life- that was probably why Mr. Negan picked on him, but Ron had humor on his side. The asshole was legitimately funny; he could name every Pokemon, but hell if he knew what the animal kingdoms were. Also, he was great at video games and computers, so Carl would always come to him for help. 

Carl knew Ron was putting up a front- he’d deny that Mr. Negan’s words hurt, but he knew better. It probably reminded him of his dad. Why else would Ron skip class whenever he could? 

When sixth period finally hit, Carl walked into the locker room, dread pooling in his stomach. God, what were they going to do today? He took off his socks and put a hand on his ankle. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be anything too intense. The other boys were laughing amongst themselves when Carl approached Ron. 

“You ready?” He asked, brushing a hand through his long, brown hair. Shane had ranted a few nights ago that he wanted that ‘shit’ cut off. Over his dead body.

Ron scoffed. “Ready to be called a cocksucker again? Yeah, bring it on.”

“You should tell your mom, Ron,” Carl replied. “Seriously, that shit isn’t okay.”

“She’s stressed enough. I don’t want her to worry about me. I can handle it-”

“It’s bothering you.”

“Maybe, Mr. Negan is right.” Carl cringes when he hears that. “I can’t get my feelings hurt all the time, you know? That’s what pussies do.”

“No, he’s not, Ron. Jesus Christ-” He begins to say before he’s interrupted by the shrill screeching of Mr. Negan’s whistle. It’s time for the class to start. 

They’re surprised to find the girls sitting on the bleachers, rolling their eyes as Mr. Negan strutted around like he was the shit. Some of them are staring at his non-existent ass in either awe (weirdos) or disgust, like Enid and Sophia who were ready vomit. Carl and Ron got a seat beside the two girls before the gym teacher blew his whistle again. 

“Alright, you sorry shits,” he laughed. “We’re playing baseball today!” 

Carl couldn’t help but smile while Ron groaned. 

“I heard that, Anderson.” Mr. Negan paused before smiling again. “Mrs. Fenix, the girl’s teacher is on maternity break because she got fu... freaky-deeky if you know what I mean.” He laughed again when the kids’ eyes widened. “Yeah, I want you to think about that. Just get that image in your mind.” 

**Ew.**

“So,” he continued, “we’ll be sharing the class with them until Mrs. Fenix comes back. Hopefully, it will be soon because you all are obnoxious fu-” he stops himself, “people. And I saw that eye roll Ms. Conway!” Mr. Negan cried, pointing at Enid. “Do that again and I will shut that shit down.”

Wow, was he stopping himself from cursing? Carl put a hand to his chin as the older man continued to talk, watching as he corrected himself every other sentence. He glanced at Ron, who seemed just as shocked as he was. 

“Alright, we’re going to go out on the field now and play. Girls on one team, boys on the other,” he smirked and leaned back. “Make me proud, boys!”

* * *

“Who is this man because that’s not Mr. Negan!” Ron whispered as they made their way outside. “Like, he didn’t say fuck once!”

“It’s still him, Ron,” Carl replied. “He called us shits-”

“But- But what about fuckers. He always calls us fuckers!”

He shrugged. “Maybe my dad got to him? I don’t know.” Carl picked up a baseball bat and put it over his shoulder. 

“I’m lucky you’re on our team. Otherwise, we’d be fucked,” Ron smiled. 

“What can I say?” The teenager chuckled. “I’m a baseball god.”

Mr. Negan stepped forward and blew his whistle. “The boys are up to bat. We’re going to go in alphabetical order, so Mr. Anderson is up first.” His eyes narrowed when someone, most likely from the varsity baseball team, groaned. “Hey, cut that shit out or you’ll be running laps.” Ron’s eyes widened when he smiled at him and tossed him a bat. “Good luck, kid.”

Carl watched as Enid threw the ball and Ron barely missed it. That was the first strike. It repeated for the second strike. The third time, he didn’t even bother to do anything. 

“Hey, what the fu-” Mr. Negan took a deep breath. It was like it was painful for him to not curse. “Mr. Anderson what was that for?” 

“I’m never going to hit it anyway-”

“That’s not true, don’t just give up.” Negan frowned before softly speaking. “You don’t just give up and walk away because that’s how people know you’re not shit. You can’t let them believe that they’re right.”

“But-”

He shook his head. “But, nothing. You got this far, don’t let these fuckers get to you.” Ron’s brows rose as Mr. Negan took the bat. “You’re problem is that you’re not holding it right.” He posed and swung back. “See, you got to get a good grip and swing as hard as you can when the ball comes. Don’t flinch. When I started playing I had that problem too, but it’s not going to hurt you…” He gave it back to the teenager. “Try it now.”

Carl’s jaw drop when Ron hit the ball so hard it nearly got Sophia, who at near the end of the field. Mr. Negan laughed and patted his back as the other kids stared in awe. “There you go!” He beamed. “That was badass as shit!” 

And Ron was still grinning like he won the lottery thirty minutes later when the class ended. “Did you see that Carl?” He cried. “Jesus, my ball went farther than yours!”

“Yeah, and Mr. Negan didn’t even chew me out for it.”

“I don’t know who took over his body, but I like them!” Ron replied. “Your dad is a miracle worker!”

“I wouldn’t say that… he’ll probably go back to being an asshole tomorrow or something.” He put back on his regular clothes, trying to not smile himself because Ron’s grin was so goofy. 

“Man, I hope not. I might actually like this class now!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said Negan's an asshole in the tags, but he still knows when he's the crossed the line. Rick's talk I think sparked something in him to try to be nicer and not curse as much in class... we see how that's getting to him.
> 
> To the person who said Negan's been abused himself... I'm not going to spoil anything, but I left some hints in this chapter for you.


	5. Catalyst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carl and Rick have the worst day of their lives.

Rick missed working with Shane. He missed the good times they had in the patrol car laughing and joking about their childhoods- telling stories about all the crazy shit they did. Then, he remembers that he slept with his wife, and all those feelings dissipate. 

Now, he had nothing against Ms. Chambler. She was a nice girl with a good head on her shoulders, but like most newbies, she was painfully immature. She’d make painful mistakes left and right or rush off trying to play hero. Rick got it. He did the same shit when he was her age and first starting out, but it got annoying sometimes. She needed him to guide her, but Rick had enough shit on his plate. 

Luckily, nothing too extreme usually happened. Kings County was pretty quiet and low on crime- most people were well behaved, friendly, and obeyed the law. Y’know, like normal people did. 

They hadn’t gotten any calls at all this morning when they stopped to get donuts (stereotypical, Rick knew, but damn were they a guilty pleasure). Usually, crimes wouldn’t start until the afternoon. Criminals liked to sleep in, too. They joked around while eating, watching the cars drive by from where they were parked. 

“I’m thinking about taking Carl to the Grand Canyon next week.” Rick takes a bite out of his donut. 

“That’s awesome, man."

“This whole divorce has been hard on him and we haven’t really had time to ourselves,” he smiled. “I’m going to surprise him, though. I’m picking him up from school so I’ll break it to him then.”

Tara grinned and nearly choked on her donut. “Oh my God, that’s so cute! If I was him I’d be so excited!” 

“Yeah, I already told Lori about it.” Hopefully, Shane didn’t try to upstage him. He always did. If Rick got Carl a game, Shane would buy him a new system. If Rick wanted to take Carl out to breakfast, Shane would take him out to lunch and dinner. He could never be as good as Shane- maybe Carl liked his step-father more because of that. Rick could never spoil him like Shane did. 

Their radio started buzzing, static coming in. “10-16…” The operator began. “We got a 10-16 over at the County Bank…” Rick picked it up, his eyes narrowing. “Armed robbery over at County Bank-possible hostage situation. We need backup, over.”

“We’re on our way, over,” Rick said before turning to Tara. “You’re going to listen to me, okay? You can’t rush in with your guns blazing because people will die.”

She nods. 

“You have to listen to me. Do whatever I tell you, alright.”

“Yeah,” she said anxiously. “Jesus, you’re making me nervous here.” 

“Good, you should be. That’s the sign of a good cop.”

* * *

“Got some great news!” Sophia Peletier says as she puts her tray down. She sat down next to Enid and grinned. “Mr. Negan isn’t here today.”

The four of them- Sophia, Carl, Enid, and Ron sat in a small lunch table over by the vending machines. It wasn’t as if they weren’t popular- well Ron wasn’t- they just liked having a space for themselves. They could goof off and talk without being judged by the more popular crowd.

Enid jokingly raised her hands and looked up at the sky. “Thank God,” she cried. 

“Are you sure?” Carl asked after taking a bite of his fries. “Because, like, that guy is never out.”

She nodded, her blonde curls bouncing. “Yeah, he left after third period. According to Eliza Morales, he ran out real quick after getting a phone call or something.” She clapped her hands excitedly. “ We got a free!”

Ron shrugged. “Maybe something happened. Y’know,” he muttered, “he’s an asshole, but he’s not completely awful.”

“Are you kidding me?” Enid rolled her eyes. “He called you a cocksucker the other day. He’s nice to you once and all of a sudden you’re sucking his dick.”

“That’s not it!” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I just think there’s more to him…” 

“I hope something terrible happens to him,” the girl spat, making Sophia’s eyes widen. “He’s a piece of shit and deserves the worst.” She looked at Carl. “Right, Carl?”

“I-I mean,” he stammered. “I don’t wish the worst on anybody, but yeah… he’s a piece of shit.”

Ron rolled his eyes and took a sip of his soda. “You guys are assholes.” He stopped and smiled at Sophia, watching a blush creep on her face. “Except for you, you’re awesome.” 

Enid groaned. “You’re a real casanova, aren’t you, Anderson?” She muttered as Carl groaned. They both face palmed when the other boy put up finger guns and winked. 

“You know it, baby!” 

That got a fry shoved up his nose. 

“Isn’t your dad picking you up?” Sophia asked, turning to Carl. “Maybe he’ll let us come over tonight. Shane doesn’t like it when we hang out.”

“Shane doesn’t like a lot of things,” he muttered. “But, yeah, I’ll see what I can do. “

Ron leaned over and frowned. “You don’t seem too excited. Your dad is awesome.”

“Yeah, he is, but… I don’t know-”

“You don’t know what?” He replied. “Jesus, I’d kill for a dad like yours.”

Now, Carl was beginning to feel guilty. He took a sip of his drink and sighed. “He just hasn’t been the same since Mom left for Shane.” He slammed a fry down into his ketchup and furrowed his brows. “He’s just so engrossed in work and he’s always so sad-”

“I would be too if my wife fucked my best friend,” Enid said. 

“Work is just the only thing he lives for anymore,” Carl continued. “That’s why he gets the weekends- that’s his time off. That’s what Shane keeps telling me.”

“You’re going to believe Shane, man?”

“It makes sense.”

* * *

There are about ten cop cars outside the bank. They had called for the SWAT team, but it seemed like they weren’t there yet. At least, that’s what Rick could get from the radio. The two got out of their cruiser and made their way over to the large group of officers standing outside the building. Their guns already were drawn. 

Rick pulled his pistol out. “Remember, you listen to me. Got it?” He told the younger cop as she cocked her gun. 

“Yeah, I got it the first fifty times.”

Rick stopped when he saw the familiar curls of his former best friend, Shane. Damn it, the last person he needed to see. It wasn’t as if his blood pressure was high enough. Shane looked them both over and crossed his arms. “Shane,” Rick fidgeted slightly. “I-It’s good to see you.”

“Rick… yeah, it is nice.” He bit his lip and looked at the ground before pointing to Tara. “And this is?”

“Tara,” she stepped forward. “His new partner.”

Shane nods and rubs his forehead. This is just so uncomfortable, Rick is tempted to jump back in the car and drive off. But, these people in the bank needed their help. He watched as the other officers sat around, rubbing their chins in befuddlement. 

“What’s going on there?” He asked. “Why isn’t there a negotiator?”

“We don’t have one,” Shane replied. “They’re calling one in from Atlanta- should take them another thirty minutes to arrive.”

Rick sighed. Shouts rang out from the open windows of the bank and the cops began to panic. One older, portly woman ran towards the three. “We need someone in there right now-”

“Wait, what about the negotiator-” Shane stammered before being interrupted. 

“They’re going to open fire in the next five minutes, we need someone in there right now.” She anxiously glanced at the building and back. “Deanna Monroe is in there. W-We just got the word. The media’s going crazy right.”

Tara gasped. “Deanna Monroe? Like the one running for senate?”

“Who else?” The female cop replied. “They’re saying it’s an attack against her from an extremist. It’s not a robbery, they want blood.”

“What about SWAT?” 

“We got snipers up on the roofs, but they’re trying to get a good shot. We need someone to lead the attacker out into their eye of sight.”

“I’ll go.” All eyes are on Rick as he makes his way towards the entrance. “I’ll go and do it.”

“Rick…” Tara frowned. 

“It’ll be fine,” he smiled before turning to Shane. “If anything happens… promise me you’re gonna make sure Carl’s alright. Please, Shane, I know we had our...differences, but I need you to be there for him-”

He nods. “Go.”

Rick hesitates before opening the large, wooden doors of the bank. He pulls out his gun and hid behind one of the stone pillars, glancing around the room for a gunman. There is none. In fact, no one’s there. He makes another step before he notices the corpse of a bank teller. It seemed they were shot dead with a bullet to the head.

Rick took a deep breath and turned to see the vault door open. The gunman stood inside in the middle of the tied down hostages- including Mrs. Monroe. He had long, greasy brown hair, a scraggly beard, and wore a trenchcoat. God, trenchcoats were only cool in the twenties. The younger man lifted his gun up and aimed it at the officer. 

“I’m not after you,” he began, his eyes narrowing. “I don’t want to hurt you-”

“No,” Rick put his hands up, “but you will.”

The gunman nodded and glared at Deanna, who spat on his shoes. He whacked her with the back of his gun. Rick couldn’t help but admire her bravery. He sure as hell wouldn't be mouthing off to a man with an AK-47. “I’m after her.”

“I know you are.”

“But, you won’t let me kill her,” the gunman growled.

“I’m not.”

“You know what that means?” His finger inched towards the trigger and Rick could only pray that the snipers can get a shot. 

“What?” Rick knew. But, if he could keep him talking for as long as possible, maybe he would come out and-

**_Bam_ **

Time seems to slow down as Rick stumbles back. His stomach exploded in fiery, agonizing pain. He fell to his knees and let out a scream as the muscles in his stomach seemed to rip. The hostages were screaming. All of them except Deanna, who kept herself upright and furious. “Cop killer!” She growled. “You’re a cop killer!”

“Shut up!” The gunman snapped, making his way towards the deputy. Rick struggled to keep his eyes open as he aimed his rifle down at his head.

“Got to make sure he’s dead-”

There’s another gun shot. Or,at least Rick thinks it’s a gunshot because his ears are ringing, but the gunman falls. There’s silence for a few seconds before he hears a shrill scream. Shane and Tara fly out from behind the pillars and rush towards him. 

“Rick!” Tara screeches, juggling her radio. “Oh my God, Rick!”

Shane scoops him up in his arms as if they’re imitating the Pieta and smacks his face. “Rick, come on stay with me! Don’t you fucking die on me…” he chokes up. “Come on, stop this shit.”

It hurts to breathe. It hurts to scream. It hurts to even move, but he shakily puts a hand to his stomach and groans when it’s coated in blood. “He’s coughing up blood,” Tara whispered and put a napkin to his face. She turned to the door as the other officers filed in, “Officer down!” She cried. “We got an officer down.” 

“Come on, Rick,” Shane whispered. “Come on, stay awake!”

His vision is blurring. His mind is going blank and Rick struggles to form a coherent thought. He manages to think of one thing, though. Carl... Would he be okay? Shane already spoiled him rotten and did so much for him. He wouldn’t miss him too much, right?

Rick’s eyes close, but the last thing he hears are the sirens of an ambulance.

* * *

“Can we have Carl Grimes down at the front entrance packed and ready to go? Repeat, can we have Carl Grimes down at the front entrance packed and ready to go?”

He looks up from his textbook and stared up at the loudspeaker. Ron lightly slaps his arm and grinned. “Lucky bastard,” he smirked, “you didn’t tell me you got out early!”

“I didn’t know.” Maybe it was a doctor’s appointment or something. 

He was dismissed from the class and meandered over to the other side of the building. That was where his locker was. No homework for the weekend, thank God. He only had to pack his English textbook to study for that quiz coming up- which he wouldn't study for anyway.

Carl didn’t expect to see his mom pacing at the entrance- he really didn’t expect her being on the verge of tears. She froze when she saw him, not being able to fight a breakdown anymore. She rushed to him and held him tightly, sobbing into his shoulders. “Oh Carl, baby… Oh God.”

He felt a lump form in his throat. This was about his dad. It had to be about his dad. “What happened?”

“Your daddy… Carl…” Lori looked at him and sobbed, running a hand through his hair. “Your daddy was shot.”

He screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Rick gets shot no matter what, poor guy. But, there are no zombies so we'll get a hospital setting for a while. And Negan has his own problems right now (really big problems), but everything will come together.


	6. Vending Machines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carl doesn't know what he hates more: hospital food, Mr. Negan, or Shane.

Carl hates hospitals. He hates the smell of antiseptic, the eeriness of the bright lighting, and how cold it is. It’s the most uncomfortable place in the world. The waiting room chairs are old and uncomfortable; the TV, which hung over the wall was only playing the news. Nothing local, thank God. But, they still addressed the elephant in the room. His dad. 

“Deputy Rick Grimes of Kings County, Georgia, was shot and wounded during an armed robbery involving Deanna Monroe, who is running for the Senate.” The anchor’s monotone voice makes Carl sick. They didn’t care about his dad. “Mrs. Monroe has stated that she is very grateful for the work of the Kings County Police Department and wishes the best for Rick and his family.”

Her phone call didn’t mean shit. His dad was still in the operating room and he still could die at any time. Carl reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone- plugging in his earbuds, he began to listen to music. Shane was pacing around the room, rubbing his forehead anxiously. His mom was sitting on the other side of the room, trying her best not to cry. Carol was watching Judith for the night. 

“We’re going to make this work, alright?” Shane said after pacing to such an extent that Carl was convinced he was going to leave marks on the floor. “We’re going to get through this together as a family.” He paused and looked at the teenager. “It’s better this way.”

Lori looked up and glared at her husband. “You make it sound like he’s dead.”

“I-I ain’t sayin’ that,” he rubbed his forehead and sighed. “I think we just need to be prepared. I saw that shot, Lori- it was bad. We need to get ready for-”

Carl sneered and turned up his music, blocking them out. His mother stood up and began to yell at Shane, the two of them bickering like children. They did it a lot. Usually, they waited for him to go to bed, but he knew. Mom probably secretly regretted everything: the affair and the divorce, but she married that clown because of Judith. Not that he didn’t love Judith- she was the best baby ever, but Shane wasn’t exactly father of the year material. He ignored her for the most part and instead focused on him- as if he was getting back at Rick and proving he was a better father than he could ever be. Then again, with his dad at work so much and constantly depressed- maybe Shane had a point. A really fucked up point. But, Carl didn’t want to lose his dad and Shane was a piece of shit for even mentioning that. 

Pathetic. Not even the girls at his school were this petty. 

The receptionist looked up at them from her desk and rolled her eyes. Fucking great. The media had asked them for interviews a couple times- Shane was going to force them to do it, too. This whole incident was probably great for him. If his dad died, Shane wouldn’t have to worry about any competition anymore. God, that sounded weird to even think about. 

His phone buzzed. Another message from Ron. His phone had been blowing up with messages from everyone in the school. Even the popular kids were texting him and he never gave them his number. It was a nice gesture at least. 

 

**Ronald_McDonald:** hey u ok?  
**Coral:** what do u think?  
**Ronald_McDonald:** no huh… :( tht football game we were goin to go to was canceld.  


It wasn’t like he was going to go anyway… 

**Coral:** coach negan got out???  
**Ronald_McDonald:** i think something happened to his wife. i heard dana james talkin bout it in gov after u left. she passed out or something so he left.

 

Oh, well he hoped she got better. People passed out all the time, though. Most don’t get shot in their lifetime. He sighed as the doors to the OR opened, shutting his mom and Shane’s argument down- the doctor walked out grimly. “Mr. and Mrs. Walsh?” He asked. 

“Yeah,” Shane said, smirking a bit when he referred to Lori as ‘Mrs. Walsh.’ Carl rolled his eyes. Asshole. 

The doctor fixed his jacket and frowned. “The operation was a success. The bullet was removed safely and without major damage to the abdominal or spinal cord area-”

Lori breathed a sigh of relief and put a hand over her chest with a smile. Shane let out a loud sigh too… not a happy one. The doctor put his hand up, his frown deepening. “We’re not out of the woods, yet. I’m afraid there is a slight infection beginning that could turn into sepsis-”

“What’s that mean?” Carl asked and turned off his phone. 

“It’s an infection of the blood. Very dangerous. So, we decided in our best interest to put him in a medically induced coma so we can monitor any changes, and help his body recover.”

His mom’s brows furrowed. She ran a hand through her hair and cursed under her breath. “How long?” She said weakly. “How long?”

“Two weeks for the coma,” the doctor replied, “but this is serious trauma. We’re talking a couple weeks- maybe months in recovery.”

Shane rubs his head. “Jesus Christ, Lori.” He looked at his wife and frowned. “This is bad.”

“I know,” she snapped. “I just… God.” She took a shaky breath, her eyes never leaving the ground and whispered, “He was going to take Carl to the Grand Canyon next week…” 

Carl’s eyes widened. Back before… when they were a family, they had gone to the Grand Canyon twice. The first time was when he was a baby and they had to leave because he got sick. But, they had gone a year before the divorce and it was so much fun. The last good memory they all had together. He had wanted to go back- mentioned it to his dad every chance he could, but his work had consumed him at that point. To think that he was most likely going to surprise him… take several days off of work for him. 

He fought back tears as he wiped his eyes. That familiar, disgusting lump in his throat returning. “C-Can I see him?” He asked the doctor. “Can I?”

“Visiting hours are closed and he needs his rest. You can try coming back tomorrow.” 

Jesus Christ, tomorrow felt like ages. He wanted to be there now. He had to see his dad. But, this doctor wasn’t going to budge or make exceptions. Carl held his chin and huffed, listening to the adults continue their conversation- boring stuff about bills, insurance, and whatnot. Eventually, his mom checked her cell and groaned.  
“Michonne’s coming in five minutes,” she said to Shane. “Traffic was bad-”

“She doesn’t need to be here,” the Alpha snapped. “You know how I feel about her.” He hated her. Probably because she was one of the few who called him out on his bullshit. Michonne was real good at doing that. 

Lori’s face scrunched up and she crossed her arms. “She’s Rick’s friend and she’s coming no matter what. You can leave if you want to.”

“Oh!” He cried, offended. “So you’re staying without me?”

“I don’t see what the problem is!”

Carl rolled his eyes and stared at the wall. God, Shane was such an asshole… He heard his mom go on her phone and storm off, talking to someone. Probably Jessie Anderson or Carol. Shane sat down next to him and rubbed his forehead again. That was a nervous tic he had. He stared at the teenager and nodded. 

“I know things have been tough,” he said, “but you’re Mama and I are going to make this work.”

Carl grunted. 

Shane laughed and shook his head. “Women, you know. They always start bitching about something- you can never keep them happy.” He began as Carl’s brows raised.

“I tell you what, your Mama can be the sexiest, funniest person when she’s in a good mood. That’s why I married her, but then she starts bitching and complaining about the dumbest shit. ‘Feed the baby, Shane! Clean the kitchen, Shane!’” He nudged Carl’s arm, expecting the boy to laugh. He didn't. 

“You ever want to play football?” He asked. “Your old man hated football, but damn can I show you how to play. You’d need to gain some pounds, but you’d be an amazing quarterback.”

Carl grunted again and attempted to zone out.

“Don’t know why’d you want to go to the Grand Canyon,” Shane continues, ignoring the other’s disinterest. “Yep, the old man picks the most boring ass places to go. That shit ain’t for a kid… But, you know what is? Disney World!” He gets excited. “Oh, shit I got some ideas, now.”

Great, even when his dad was in a coma, Shane was trying to outdo him. Was nothing sacred? Of course, Carl couldn’t say no to Disney World. They- his parents- were planning on going when he graduated eighth grade, but Shane and Judith popped into the picture.

His mom came over again and sighed. “Ms. Anderson is going to pick you up- you’re staying overnight.” She frowned, running a hand through her long, brown hair. “Shane and I will stay… we’ll call you when you can visit.”

“And Judith?”

“We’ll get her in the morning.”

He wants to protest, but his mom is stressed. She doesn’t need the extra aggravation- especially with Shane making an ass of himself whenever possible. So, he went home with Ms. Anderson, who is an extremely nice woman. He and Ron stayed up all night, played video games, and ordered pizza. Ms. Anderson is very chill, a little too chill for Carl's taste. She doesn’t really have an issue with anything so long as no one gets hurt. Him staying up till five in the morning is not one of her concerns.

Just seeing Michonne, who was usually so calm and collected, a crying mess coming in as they were leaving was enough to put him nearly over the edge. Michonne was strong. She never broke down. Ever. Something was wrong and he nearly fought back as they went to the parking garage. He wouldn’t sleep that night. No matter how much Ron and Ms. Anderson persuaded him, he couldn’t- not until his dad was okay.

* * *

Ms. Anderson had ordered pizza last night, but he didn’t eat anything. His stomach was in knots and he felt sick even looking at it. He wished he had, though, because hospital food is the worst kind of food. They weren’t kidding when they said that. It's like it's not even food, but stuff they got from a meth lab or something. The egg sandwich in Carl’s hand is soggy- his hands are lathered in grease and the smell emitting from it makes him queasy. His mom had bought it for him in an attempt to have him eat, but any appetite he did have was gone now. Gross. 

He threw the sandwich out and made his way over to the vending machines. Going through his pockets, he reasoned he had just enough to get a granola bar and a Coke. Breakfast of champions. Lori would be pissed but oh well- at least he was eating something. 

Of course, then his drink got stuck. Fantastic! As if his day could not get any worse! Carl cursed his under his breath, giving the machine a hard kick. It wasn’t moving and he couldn’t fit his arm under the slot to get it. Well, there was a dollar wasted. 

“Kid, everyone knows you don’t kick the vending machine.” 

Carl’s eyes widen when he hears that familiar gruff, deep voice and he turns his head to see Mr. Negan behind him, leaning back. The guy looks like shit- dark circles under his eyes, his usually slicked back hair a mess- he probably hasn’t slept all day. Then again, Carl probably wasn’t much better. 

Instead of his iconic short-shorts and a white, sweat stained t-shirt, he’s wearing jeans and a zipped up leather jacket. If Carl hadn’t of seen him in that horrendous gym outfit, he would almost say he looked cool. God, sleep deprivation must have been getting to him if he thought of Mr. Negan and cool in the same sentence. 

“Well,” and there’s that smug smile that Carl hates, “everyone except you that is.” 

Carl says nothing as Mr. Negan knocks on the vending machine confidently, his eyes narrowing when his drink falls. The older man smirks again and dramatically bows. “Service with a smile,” he frowns, however when Carl doesn’t respond. “Look, kid, I’m real sorry about your dad.” 

“Whatever,” he replies, taking his drink. He didn’t need his sympathy. 

“You know, the food here is shit,” Mr. Negan continued. “Don’t blame you for going to the machines. Their pizza? Fucking awful-”

“Can you just leave me alone?” Carl says, moving away and attempting to leave the cafeteria. He doesn’t get too far before strong, large hands grab his arm. Mr. Negan’s eyes are narrowed, his mouth in a firm, straight line. 

“Why don’t we sit and have a chat,” the gym teacher said, leading him over to one of the tables. “Seems like you need someone to talk too-”

“I don’t.”

“Kid,” he leaned forward and folded his hands, “you look like shit-”

“So do you…”

Mr. Negan smirked. “Touche,” he replied. “I get it your dad got shot, and that fucking sucks, but I don’t think he’d want you to mope like this.”

“You don’t know what he wants.” Carl bit his tongue and fought back several colorful words. Cussing out his teacher was not going to be one of the highlights- or low points- of his sophomore year.

Mr. Negan takes a deep breath. “You’re right, I don’t know your dad, but I do know he cares a whole fucking lot about you. And I think, going on the fact he’s a fucking goody-two-shoes, that he wouldn’t want you sitting here and feeling sorry for yourself.”

“You only talked to him once-”

“Yeah, and he fucking came from his work to do it.” Mr. Negan takes a sip of what Carl’s convinced is vodka and sighs. “It’s clear as day he loves you- hell, probably loves everyone. Probably a damn good father. You’re lucky-”

“I don’t feel lucky right now,” Carl plays with the wrapping of his granola bar. 

“You are because one- he’s alive, and two- he could be an asshole,” the older man’s words are solemn. And Carl has a feeling it’s from experience, but he wouldn’t dare ask. “Be glad he’s not an asshole.”

The teenaged boy stood up and threw out his trash, beginning his way back to the waiting room. This conversation was just too awkward. Why Mr. Negan cared so much about him and his dad, when he couldn’t have cared less before, was just weird. Not unsettling, but just bizarre. Besides, visiting hours were opening and Carl wanted to stop by and check on his dad before he had to leave. Ron was taking him to the movies. He still had some hope that Rick was up.

“Hey!” Mr. Negan calls as Carl pushes the large doors open. He turns around and watches the older man put on an arrogant smirk. Great, he’s back to being an asshole. “What’s your dad’s room number?”

“113, why?”

“Just wanted to know..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back with another chapter! I've been super busy with work, but I finally managed to get this out. The feels train is about to depart because y'all are not going to like where the next few chapters go.

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, so I became Rick/Negan trash (even though I love Richonne to death) so I decided to get this out of my system. 
> 
> Negan being Carl's gym teacher wouldn't last long in reality because Lori and Rick would 'shut that shit down' real fast, but for the sake of the story he's going to stay around for a while... He kind of has too, obviously.


End file.
